


A Cold Front

by brevitas



Series: Not the Face! [6]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, M/M, Modern AU, superhero au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-22
Updated: 2013-08-22
Packaged: 2017-12-24 08:28:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/937813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brevitas/pseuds/brevitas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras is being very nice to Grantaire, for a reason the latter cannot fathom. It is a quiet day at Les Amis' house and only becomes more dangerous when night falls.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Cold Front

The discussion goes on for about as long as Grantaire had suspected it would; he's hurting and spends most of it gritting his teeth through the sudden bouts of pain and watching Enjolras talk to try and distract himself . He's very pretty, Grantaire thinks, especially when he's passionate about his beliefs. He's a surprisingly good tactician and when combining his own natural talents to those of Combeferre's, who Grantaire is quite sure has wrote books on new-age tactics, they're an unstoppable duo.

Grantaire is rubbing out a clenched muscle in his knee as he stares at Enjolras, who is now talking about how they could lure the Blackbird into their proposed trap. They can catch her without killing her if they're careful but it will be a lot easier if she's caught unawares.

He's thinking about how pretty it is when Enjolras flutters his hands, his long fingers stroking the air, and hears Combeferre say dryly, " _You're thinking so loud I can barely hear Enjolras_."

Grantaire is so surprised he laughs aloud. Enjolras stops talking and looks at him curiously, as what he'd been talking about was not all that funny. Actually he'd been in the process of explaining to the group how they should restrain her in order to best restrict her hands when Grantaire's honeyed chuckles interrupted.

"Grantaire?" He asks, frowning. "Are you alright?"

Grantaire nods, trying not to grin too broadly. Combeferre, who's sitting next to Enjolras, smiles at him and shakes his head. "I'm fine," Grantaire says, looking back to Enjolras. "I just finally understood the punchline of the joke Courfeyrac told me yesterday."

Courfeyrac looks puzzled and then suddenly lights up. "Oh, the nun one?" He asks. Grantaire could've kissed him; Courfeyrac didn't tell him any jokes yesterday, and definitely none he hadn't understood. Cour has no idea why Grantaire is lying but he's happy to play along until he figures it out.

"Yep, that one," Grantaire says, nodding sagely. "Sorry, Enjolras. It was just rather funny."

Enjolras casts him a look. Grantaire can't tell if he's irritated or amused; it's impossible to read the marble angles of his face, and his mouth is set in a straight line.

Finally he says, "Alright," and returns to the topic at hand.

Combeferre is apparently a brilliant multitasker. He's listening to Enjolras' ideas and scribbling down notes on his iPad and still finds time to tell Grantaire, " _Nice save. But you know Courfeyrac won't let this go until you tell him what all that was about_."

Grantaire glances at Courfeyrac. Sure enough the shapeshifter is looking at him and when he catches Grantaire's eyes, smirks. He looks scarily like the Chesire cat in that moment.

"Grantaire," Enjolras says, snapping his attention back to the blonde. "Are you capable of carrying someone else while flying?"

"Uh," he says, and pauses to think about it. "Yeah. I've never done it for long distances though, so I guess it depends on how far I'm expected to go."

Enjolras nods and asks, "Would you be able to carry Feuilly to the top of a twelve storey building?"

Grantaire frowns. "I dunno," he answers honestly. "Feuilly, does your electricity thing ever actually turn off?" The redhead shakes his head and blows smoke out his nose. "Can I touch you now to see what it normally feels like?"

Feuilly holds a hand out to him and Grantaire clasps their palms together. The current is much weaker than what it had been when they were introduced and tickles his nerves rather than fries them. He flexes his fingers and is relieved to see they still bend, though the sensation in them is already fading.

He drops his hand and looks back at Enjolras. "I think I can do it but I'm honestly not sure. I'm still kinda weak from resurrection and Feuilly's current really takes it out of me."

Enjolras looks at them thoughtfully. "We are going to go through with this plan in three days. Would that be enough time to replenish your strength?"

"Sure," Grantaire says with a shrug. "So long as no one else dies around here." He smiles when he says it but none of the group smile back; they haven't had lifetimes to get used to being forever protected from death, and his joke falls flat on people intimate with mortality.

"We'll be careful," Enjolras assures him with a small, momentary smile, and then turns back to Combeferre. They start editing things on Combeferre's iPad, perhaps changing the time table or creating a plan B in case Grantaire really can't do it. Grantaire resettles in his seat and thinks, _Like I'd ever be able to fail Enjolras_ , and sees Combeferre struggle to suppress a smile.

After they've done all they can as a group Combeferre takes the rough outline and disappears into his room, fondly called Mission Control by the rest of the Amis. Marius goes after him determinedly. Everyone else goes to the kitchen for lunch, Combeferre assuring Grantaire that they'll be back in a moment to join them when he'd asked.

Grantaire takes a sandwich and sits at the far end of the kitchen table, using the distance as a way to survey everyone else. It's kind of amazing, how they all interact; there are stronger friendships between a few of them, certainly, but it's clear they're all friends and have been for a long time.

He watches couples in particular, wondering about their histories or intents; Bahorel and Feuilly sit together and a thin skin of that silver metal Bahorel carries around within him slicks over his hand. He wraps this sterling hand around Feuilly's, apparently using the malleable metal as a dampener against the redhead's electricity. They talk quietly to one another and let the hand-holding go on. Grantaire correctly pegs them as not doing this often, but Feuilly's been gone long enough that Bahorel will take any contact he can get.

He watches Jehan and Courfeyrac next, the two being just as careful as Bahorel and Feuilly. Grantaire has never seen Jehan out of his skin-tight costume; he eats with his dainty hands gloved, using a napkin to wipe crumbs off the material. Hemlock sits on his thigh and eats the berries handed to him and Courfeyrac leans against Jehan's shoulder, thieving his chips.

Grantaire can tell from Jehan's stiff posture that he's nervous and he doesn't blame the kid; with poison just underneath the surface of his skin he can't imagine it would ever be easy to relax when someone's pressed up against you. Courfeyrac is clearly head over heels for Nightshade, however, and talks animatedly despite his dark green eyes that betray Jehan's apprehension.

Bossuet and Joly are curled up on one of the couches, sharing a large sub sandwich and reading a book. Joly tilts his head down to murmur something to Bossuet, who laughs freely. Their volume differences are incredible; Grantaire hopes to see Joly scream just once to understand why he always feels the need to whisper.

He's wondering about this when Enjolras suddenly appears at his elbow and asks politely, "May I sit here?" Grantaire turns to look at him, somewhat confused as to why he wants to but definitely not going to let the opportunity go. He nods and Enjolras sits elegantly in the seat, picking up his turkey sandwich with those ridiculously pretty fingers of his.

"How are you feeling?" He asks. When Grantaire looks curiously at him he says, "I noticed you were limping earlier."

"Oh." He scratches at his stubble and shrugs. "I don't normally do the whole Jesus reborn thing this often. I usually live ten or fifteen years before I find someone to die for."

Enjolras regards him thoughtfully and Grantaire thinks, _Shit_. He hadn't wanted to get all philosophical on him and he really doesn't want Enjolras putting two and two together and realizing that the only reason Grantaire had saved him and Courfeyrac was only because of Enjolras himself.

But Enjolras doesn't shout "Eureka!" or look like he's figured out Grantaire has a crush on him. Instead he takes a neat bite on his sandwich, swallows, then asks, "Do you not find much to believe in?"

"No," Grantaire says with a snort. "I guess I don't." _I believe in you_ , he thinks, then pulls a face because Jesus, he's usually not that gooey. He hears Courfeyrac's tittering laughter and glances over to find his eyes purple; the bastard's affecting the mood in the room, making everyone friendlier and more flirty. Grantaire flips him off.

"He does that a lot," Enjolras comments to his right. "He says he prefers the group when we're cuddly."

Grantaire laughs and says, "Yeah well he almost made me say something stupid and--" He snaps his mouth closed when he realizes what he'd been about to say and finishes lamely, "Insulting. I was on the cusp of telling you a racist joke and I don't think you'd much like those."

Enjolras chuckles but his eyes are intent. Grantaire focuses on his sandwich.

"Do you have any family?" Enjolras asks, still watching him with his fascinating eyes. "Or friends?"

Grantaire shakes his head. "I was the only one in my family to get the immortality gene; the last generation died out oh, fifty years ago? It was a pair of sisters and neither had kids." There is no sadness in his voice, only acceptance; this is something Grantaire has come to terms with. "And I died last about four months ago overseas, so I don't know what my old friends are up to now."

Enjolras is quiet for a moment and Grantaire can tell from the tilt to his head that he's listening to Combeferre. He smiles and looks at Grantaire, says, "Combeferre is very determined to make you a part of our group. He wishes me to offer you permanent membership."

Grantaire thinks about how he'd decided when he first woke up that he wasn't doing the superhero gig this time around. He can't decide if it's funny or sad how inescapable it has proven to be.

"Sure," he said, picking at his crust and missing the unmistakable smile that curls Enjolras' mouth. "But we need some alcohol in here like, stat. Marius could barely find any yesterday."

Enjolras' smile has faded into a slight frown by the time Grantaire looks at him again. "Okay," he allows. "I'll put that on the grocery list."

"Thanks, Enjolras," Grantaire says, chuckling as he stands. He pats the blonde's shoulder and carries his plate to the kitchen and Enjolras notices he's barely touched his food. He spares a moment to wonder about what Grantaire had said, that he doesn't usually die this many times so close together, and worries if perhaps there is a side effect that the alcoholic is unaware of.

+++++

Grantaire has a strange dream that night.

He dreams of when he was just a little boy, growing up cradled in the stronghold of the Roman Empire. These are memories he never willingly revisits but they are perfectly remade here, flawless in their details. He's seated and watching his mother prepare fish. She hums an old lullaby under her breath, the story of Eros and Psyche. Grantaire finds the words come easily to him. He sings along and remembers how much he'd missed Latin.

There's a flash of light and suddenly the room becomes bone-chillingly cold, his mother's song ending in a sharp gasp. He sits up and totters to her, clutches at her dress, but she has both hands pressed to her chest and is struggling to breathe. "Mei Deus," she whispers and then crumples.

Grantaire plants his hands on her bared shoulders and knows distantly that he can fix this. He pours energy into her, willing life, willing her to move, and becomes aware of alarmed voices. He looks around; the kitchen is empty. It is only he and his mother, and she is dying. He resumes his grisly task, ignoring the disembodied voices that somehow seem familiar.

In Grantaire's bedroom Enjolras clutches at the alcoholic and ignores the unwelcome sensation of his cold skin under his fingers, his body so chilled it makes Enjolras' joints ache just to touch him. Combeferre lays his head against Grantaire's chest and struggles to hear a heartbeat, closing his eyes. There it is, one thud, such a slow beat that he cannot be entirely sure it was not imagined.

Enjolras asks worriedly, "Ferre, what's happening?" And Combeferre shakes his head as he straightens.

"I have no idea," he says quietly. "And I don't know how to fix him."

Joly comes into the room behind them, Bossuet in tow. Before his powers developed he was a doctor and he walks to Grantaire's side to feel him. He's never seen something like this; Grantaire's body temperature has plummeted so much that for all purposes he should be dead. He frowns and says, "Whatever this is, the first thing we need to do is warm him up."

"Warm him up how?" Enjolras demands and Joly looks up at him with a knowing smile. Enjolras flushes; he's made the same jump Joly has.

"I can only suggest that our flaming leader be the one to do the honor," Joly says calmly. Bossuet fights not to smile at Enjolras' expression. "Warm him and we'll get a hot bath going." The pair leave and Combeferre looks at Enjolras over Grantaire's body.

"Will you do it?" He asks. He knows he will. He has known Enjolras for years and expects his answer without needing to pry into his thoughts.

Enjolras sighs and starts stripping. His body heat will char his clothes, and he's very fond of these jeans. Combeferre pats his shoulder on the way out.

**Author's Note:**

> oh yes hello lovelies here is a long-awaited update for our glorious superheroes! C:
> 
> requested by: three anons, austrus (twice lol) and salamandertoast
> 
> no notes for this one except I'm sorry I ended it where I did? I couldn't fit in the rest of the scene wihtout going way over my preferred length, my bad ;D just remember if you request it it'll get done faster!
> 
> oh and about the little blurb of Latin firstly his mother is saying "my god" and secondly she would be speaking in Vulgate, as she is a commoner, and I don't know Vulgate so just a heads-up it's probably incorrect in that fashion :c
> 
> tumblr is idfaciendumest, kisses to all and to all a good night!


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